


Empty Eyes

by alabasterblaze



Category: Doctor Who (2005), The Great Gatsby
Genre: Crossover, Gen, could be fobwatched!river if you look hard enough, i did this for school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:41:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1375930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alabasterblaze/pseuds/alabasterblaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman attending Gatsby's party is more than she seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Eyes

You approach the door and check your dress. It's only a party with the Gatsby fellow people kept whispering about. You were nervous- there was most definitely going to be booze here, and you couldn't afford to go to prison!  
Nonetheless, you breathe in and out, if must be a bahzzin' party, if people are queue'd up 'round the block for this!  
You smooth your dress. Why did you ever get involved in this clap-trap? The only shame is that your hair wouldn't fit in, ever, even last decade it was too bushy- out of control, even cropped short, it breathed the vibrant golden-reddish brown hatred for confinement.  
You finally go into the parlour, the buzz of the people is a bit of a daze. You see a dumb-wait showing a simple arrow to where you know that is where the devil's waters lie. You make a bee-line to the arrowed place and extract a glass of champagne- disgracefully. You bump into a girl with an excess of pearls, and she chatters on about the beauty of the day and other trite nonsense.  
You have very little patience, you wore that all away this week trying to convince a prominent university to let you teach Archeology. You went to school for that, and no one will let you do that because you are female!  
Misogyny at it's finest!  
You grab another glass and slam it down, and keep slamming them down as they all chatter at you. You smile and nod, glad that the alcohol numbs, and you grit your teeth?  
One man, who introduces him self as Jay Gatsby himself asks if there is a Mister Song.   
“Well, the is. But we keep meeting in the wrong order so there is that.” You slyly reply, he is nosy. And you edge away.   
The house is large and over stated, you explore, tasting some Turkish Delight offered on a platter. You find yourself in a study and you see man staring over the grounds with vacant eyes. You've seen people with such eyes before loads. You see an ornate bottle of whiskey and you sneak that away from the man, his empty eyes and mind seeming too lost in his mind. You think about for on brief moment interrupting the lonely man. He reminds you of yourself growing up in that place. You see a brief image of an eye patch and you shudder.  
You find a quiet corner of the estate and you drink the whiskey, you notice the man in the window. You think of him- and you wish for all the worlds in the stars you could comfort him.  
You drink, you think, you see the couples bopping in the midst of the day. You return to your small cottage, a gift from a friend who was also “new” in “town”.   
You write in a curious blue journal that got dropped off at your door step, filled with impossible writings.


End file.
